


Salt, Tequila, Lemon, and the Downward Spiral of Rock'n'Roll

by abbythebollix



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 19:49:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbythebollix/pseuds/abbythebollix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel, Dean Winchester, a bottle of tequila and iTunes on shuffle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salt, Tequila, Lemon, and the Downward Spiral of Rock'n'Roll

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anchovies101 (didyoucheckunderthesofainhell)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/didyoucheckunderthesofainhell/gifts).



> A friend of mine - anchovies101 on tumblr - prompted this. I duly replied, hereby breaking my four (five?) month hiatus from writing fanfiction. Read with caution and only afterwards consider whether or not to thank her.

It started out fairly simple; they'd run into each other at the liquor store, both with a bottle of tequila in hand, cracked a few jokes, and Cas had mentioned he didn't have any lemons, Dean wouldn't happen to know if there was a grocery store open nearby? And Dean had invited him upstairs since he had enough lemons for the both of them, no lewd hidden agendas (okay, maybe one or two, but that's it, he swears), and they'd begun to drink. Heavily, at that, and they didn't really talk about why they'd both needed to drink themselves into a stupor that particularly night, but they had, and did, and as a music enthusiast with little respect for most of the radio stations, Dean had started complaining around after the fifth (sixth?) shot of salt-tequila-lemon about the lack of decent rock'n'rool in the 21st century.

”Whatever happened to the classics, man? Why don't they play Blue Öyster Cult, or AC/DC, or Jethro Tull anymore? I don't trust anybody who doesn't like Led Zeppelin, man,” he says, not with a slur, okay, with a bit of a slur, and pours Cas another shot. 

Cas picks it up, studies it, downs it. ”I don't think I have ever really listened to Led Zeppelin.” 

Dean forgets about the bottle half-tilted in his hand as he stares incredulously at the man opposite him, which results in him drowning his glass, the salt jar and the yellow half-moon slices of lemon on the table. ”What.” It's not really a question, more of a statement, completely dumbstruck by what Cas said. 

”Well,” Cas begins, growing self-conscious, scratching his neck, looking down. ”My parents were into Electric Light Orchestra.” 

”You poor, poor bastard,” Dean says and sets the almost-empty bottle on the table as he stands up swaying. ”Lemme clean this up while you turn on my computer,” he motions to the laptop lying on the floor by the couch. ”My stereo broke last week so it'll have to do.” 

Returning from the kitchen with a dish towel in hand, Dean wipes up the worst of the tequila. ”The password's rosebud,” he calls on his way back to the kitchen with the cloth. 

”Citizen Kane,” Cas mutters with a nod and a faint smile as he quickly types it and gets let into the system. 

”Open iTunes and find the song called 'Whole Lotta Love',” Dean says and pours himself another shot, hearing the familiar notes carry out from the speakers as he puts the glass back down. ”Listen to the bass, Cas. It's-” 

He flops down on the couch next to him and smirks at him as the song continues, all the while commenting on the lyrics, the guitar riff, the . About half-way in, having nodded his head in beat with the music for most of the time, Castiel loosely grabs the laptop to put it next to him instead of on his lap, but he hits the wrong button on the keypad as he picks it up because the music changes and Dean is instantly and irrevocably overcome with an overpowering state of embarrasment. 

The bass line pumps out of the speakers like an oncoming train and wrecks into Dean as the man starts to sing, ”I believe in miracles-”

”Shit,” he mutters and tries to reach over Cas to get to the laptop, but Castiel, with a small all-knowing smile (shit, shit, shit) gently but firmly places a hand on Dean's shoulder and pushes him back. 

”Where're you from, you sexy thing?” 

”Hold on,” Cas says and closes his eyes in a desperate attempt to keep from laughing. ”I'm in the middle of my 'musical education'. We wouldn't want to,” giggle break, ”disturb the student in the middle of a very informative lesson on 1970's hard rock.” 

”I believe in miracles, since you came along, you sexy thing.”

Dean, index finger raised and argument ready, sighs and shuts his mouth, shaking his head, muttering, ”Fine, fine, go ahead, laugh all you want,” and Cas does, because really, it is really fucking funny, and Dean starts laughing too, and Cas first bends forwards, trying to catch his breath through the giggle fit, but then the chorus comes on again, and he actually falls face-first down from the couch onto the floor, and Dean doesn't think he has ever laughed this hard before and his stomach is cramping but he stands up and pulls Castiel up with him and then they're standing in the middle of his living room, laughing their asses off, holding hands, and Dean does the most sensible thing to do in this situation after how many tequila shots again? He starts dancing, shaking his hips and pushing and pulling Cas along with him by his hands, and he's being ridiculous, and Cas is ridiculous, and he can't for the life of him really remember why he'd felt the need to get hammered some few hours ago. 

Luckily, the music changes again, to something that sounds straight out of an 80's movie which Dean recognizes to be the Drive soundtrack. Cas exhales, a bit out of breath after the dancing (which Dean realises he is, too), and leans his forehead against Dean's, and they stand for a while, swaying slightly to the soft beat and breathing each other's air and he closes his eyes, rolling his head against Cas' temple and who kisses who first doesn't really matter (not that it's because Dean's forgot as soon as Cas' lips and his meet), because the fact that they're kissing is what matters, and it's kind of slobby and kind of wet, just like what any other first kiss is like when both parts are drunk and no one really knows how much tongue to use and their teeth clank awkwardly against each other. 

They kiss for a while, though, and eventually it turns out right; small nibbles and soft pressing lips and Cas makes these adorable little sounds when Dean slides his hand up against his side, under his shirt. 

The front door opens and a voice is carried through the rooms, ”Hey, Dean, sorry I got back so late, I was --whoa,” and Sam is staring wide-eyed at Dean and Cas and the white glare of the computer screen in the dark apartment. His smile turns into a full-blown grin and then into a fit of laughs as he lifts his hands and back out again, ”I'm – I'll go stay at Jesse's. I'll meet you at Ellen's at eight, okay? Sorry!”

He doesn't sound sorry at all, Dean thinks, and flinches at the sound of the door slamming shut (at least it cuts Sam's laughter off), but when he looks at Cas all he sees is the man's bright smile. ”That was my, uh, little brother Sam. We live together. Shit, the wedding. We're giving away our cousin, she's getting married tomorrow.” 

”Ah,” Cas says and looks at his watch. ”We better make the most out of the next six hours, then.”


End file.
